One Drink Ago

One Drink Ago

This song is by Terri Clark and Dallas Smith. Terri is my favorite female country artist. She is fricken gorgeous and I have loved her since the early 90s. This song hasn’t made it to Boston radio yet. I don’t know if it will. I hate that some songs are released but don’t make their way up here.

I had a hard time sleeping due to pain and then being over tired. I think I tried to sleep some time after 1. It wasn’t a fitful sleep as my med alarm kept going off for my morning meds. Then I was able to sleep most of the day. I woke up around 12ish, made an egg and coffee. The coffee made me sleepy so I went back to sleep for a few hours. I have been taking fiber pills since last night, hoping to go but nothing is working. I took some more Miralax and fiber when I had something to eat for dinner. I had some more of my zucchini pie. I was going to have a burger but the pie is going to go bad if it is not eaten. I think I might have to throw it away tomorrow. I have been the only one eating it. My mother said it gave her diarrhea and my sister didn’t like the taste. Whatever.

Sox were part of the reason I was up. They took the lead and then lost it in the 8th inning. The bullpen came apart. Game is earlier tonight, 2000. Tomorrow it will be at 1600. Tomorrow is also father’s day. I have been thinking about my father most of the month. Still can’t believe he is gone some days. Today I was wondering what he was doing and almost said it out loud to my mother. Then I said to her, you know what I just thought, and told her. I asked her if she thinks of her mother the same way. She said she doesn’t but she does miss her. My grandmother died in 2006. It was a blessing as she was in chronic pain due to cancer and dementia. She wasn’t the same person anymore. I think it was the only time I cried because my mother had been crying when she passed. I didn’t see her. I didn’t want to. She died at home.

I love Carrie Underwood. Her voice is amazing. I added Something in the Water to my playlist. Her vocals are just mind blowing. So powerful. Her latest song Cry Pretty is another favorite of mine. It made me cry the first few times I heard it because it was talking to me. The lyrics was speaking to me. It is a very powerful song. I think I posted it a few weeks ago. If not, I will post it again. Can’t have too much Carrie.

day 5 and a flare

Day 5 and a flare (warning, long post)

Last night, I had to go to the bathroom kind of late, around 2300 or so. I was also hungry so went downstairs. I must have went down four steps and my ankle went out on me. It became really painful. I stopped and hung on the bannister to prevent falling. Pain subsided a little and I went down a few more steps only for it to happen again. Shit. I held on again to the bannister and waited for my ankle to calm down a bit. I knew the downward motion of my ankle was causing it to get annoyed. I finally went down the rest of the stairs and did my business.

When I came back up to my room, my ankle felt okay. The game was late as it was on the west coast and I couldn’t stay up as I needed to be up at 6. Around midnight, I turned in, or tried to. My body pillow was a mess and was not making me comfortable. I must have flung it off the bed as when I came up to my room today, the whole side of it was on the floor. It collected all the dust that surrounded it. Great. I used a lint roller to get it off. I just decided to use a regular pillow and somehow fell asleep. I woke up about three hours later in pain. It was too early to take the 12 hr pill so I took the immediate release. Two hours later I was still in pain so took the longer acting med. I was early but oh well. I then slept for about an hour until my alarm went off.

I took my morning meds and then went downstairs to brush my teeth and wash my face. I was deciding on what to wear. I thought I could wear shorts but it was too cold and it was kind of rainy. I decided sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt were in order. Except, I couldn’t find the one I wanted to wear. I scrounged my bed and it was nowhere. Oh well, just go with the one I usually sleep in. I left to catch the bus. As I got to the corner, the bus I was to take rolled by. Luckily, another one soon followed so I didn’t have to wait long.

I brought my Dostoevsky book with me. I had 45 minutes before PT. I got coffee at the lower end coffee shop and a coffee roll. When I finished the roll, I got to reading until it was time to leave for PT. PT was not so great. She gave me a few new exercises but I think I am going to have trouble doing it on my left side due to moving my damn ankle/foot. I might have to wear the AFO (ankle foot orthotic) to keep it stable. We just did the right side and she explained what muscles were moving. Then she massaged my hip. She said my muscles were hard as a rock. I said like a tennis ball and she said yes. Some parts of where she was touching was bothersome to my thigh muscle. I had to remind her that my L2/L3 surgery fucked it up. We talked about the PTSD and stuff that surrounded my pain issues and she offered some concrete grounding techniques which I will try as the ones I were using were not working. I chiefly use distraction and music. She had me laying on my back under some kind of box thing. As we were ending, she moved my knee to my chest and my back cramped up badly. It hurt so much. I was able to walk out of there but I was hurting. I came home because my next appointment wasn’t until 1500. I made a fried egg that I kind of overcooked the yolk. Then I went upstairs and was hoping to catch a nap. Well my ankle said no to that soon as I laid down. I left an hour early than I wanted to. I went to Starbucks for espresso and a Danish.

I read my book as I brought that with me. I was going to get some serious reading done. But my god, did Dostoevsky talk and talk and talk. It was about 4 chapters of the prosecutor giving his closing argument. When he was finished, so was I. I have about 8 chapters left in the book and I should be able to finish the book this weekend. Progress. I promised one of my suicidologists that I would read her book so I will. It should be somewhat easy reading once I remember where I put it. HA. Don’t know if it is buried on my bed or I put it somewhere else.

I went to my psychiatrist appt. I gave her the run down of being hypomanic without euphoria and the cycle I seem to be in. She didn’t read anything I sent her but she said she would read it as she always does. I felt kind of deflated because I really wanted to talk about the article I sent her. I couldn’t bring it up if she didn’t read it. I actually was not really present. I just glossed over things and she accepted it. I told her my therapist wanted to meet with me twice a week but I am not sure if I can do it physically, especially with physical therapy sessions going on as well. I had told him I would think about it and get back to him. She thought it was good to be seen twice a week. Then we made an appt for two weeks and I left.

My ankle was kind of giving me grief but it wasn’t bad until I got within two blocks of home. Before the Walgreens by my house, there is this dead end street that leads to some houses. The sidewalk has a little handicapped ramp that, to me, is very inclined. I walked down it and it brought me almost to my knees. Pain was so fricken bad. I had to stand in place until it settle down. It was the same as last night when I was going down the stairs but 10 times worse. I didn’t know what to do. My sister was away (or so I thought) and there wasn’t anyone else I could call for a ride. I took my blessed time limping home. The block that lead to the final block to my street was hilly and downward. OMG did it hurt to walk downhill. I had to stop a few times to catch myself. I finally made it home and my sister’s apartment door was wide open as well as my door. I called for my niece but there was no answer. I stuck my head in my sister’s apartment and called for her again. My sister was home making dinner. My other sister was there as well eating some kind of cheese plate. I had some cheese and pepperoni and chatted with my sisters. I then went upstairs. I took my things up the stairs carefully. I took a seat in the kitchen and my ankle just went berserk. I had no idea how I was going to walk down the hallway to my room. I was in a serious flare. I have been on the new med for five fucking days. I have no idea if CRPS doesn’t care if you take meds or not. I posted the question in my support group. I am still waiting for an answer or support. I had to take the med when I finally got to my room. It was two hours early but I didn’t care. After I made dinner with a boot on, my ankle still flared again. I took the breakthrough med. It is going to be a long night and I have been up for 15 hours so far. I cried in pain while I was in the kitchen. My mother was oblivious.

I don’t know what to do to make this pain go the fuck away. I thought the new meds would work and they did for a bit. Until I walked that handicap ramp, which I will never fucking do again. I wish I could say the same of the stupid stairs but I live in a two floor house so that isn’t possible. Even wearing the boot didn’t help. More than a few weeks till my date. I wasn’t going to go through with it. But I change my mind. I could still change it, again. I haven’t told anyone about this because people keep saying they need me and that makes me feel guilty. Someone also reminded me of the ripple effect and I told her to stop talking to me. I don’t want to hear it. I just want to be left alone in my misery that no one understands. I am so done with explaining about how suicidal I am and not getting any understanding about it. Not that I want support for it. That would be ridiculous. But to know at least where I am coming from rather than have supposed opinions. I just have become callous to anyone that thinks they know me.

I did ask my psychiatrist if she thought I was “treatable”. She said yes. But that is all she said without any elaboration. I am in too much pain, both mentally and physically, to tell her what I am thinking. I am also afraid of telling her what I am thinking for fear of another hospitalization. I won’t go this time, not unless I make an attempt. That is the only way I will go back. I just hope to be successful. Things will be really bad if I don’t succeed. I am scared though. I’ve never tried this method before. And if I don’t get it right on the first try, I am kind of screwed. I am just messed up.

Twitter and another day of buses

Twitter and another day of buses

I had woken up a few times since 0630 due to pain. I had slept okay for the first time in a while. I took my meds when I woke up and then waited till after 7 so I could shut off my med alarm for my BP meds and try to sleep for a bit. I wanted to be out of the house by 9 but that didn’t happen. So I was pushing for either 10 or 1030 the latest. I had some breakfast. I didn’t feel like making an egg so I just made a peanut butter and fluff sandwich. It is called a fluffernutter. I had a recent follow on Twitter ask what is was. I have to laugh. We (Britain and US) have different ways of calling the same things or different things when it comes to food. Crisps are fries. Biscuits are cookies. But a flutternutter is unique to New England as the marshmallow fluff was created in Somerville Mass, then the patent sold and was then manufactured in Lynn, MA. There is a fluff day coming up soon to commemorate the invention of the sweet spread.

So after I ate, I left for my pharmacy. The stock had come in but due to some computer problem, they couldn’t fix it until tomorrow. I said I would like the copy of the script so I can have it filled at another pharmacy. I just got to the bus stop when the bus came. I would have been pissed if I missed it. I put my headphones on and traveled. I got to the pharmacy, which is way bigger than the one near me. I then waited nearly 45 minutes for it to be filled. I was not happy. I also paid more for Miralax at this store than my home one, which further annoyed me. I then walked to the bus stop but had just missed a bus going to a train station. According to my bus app, my bus wasn’t coming for another 12 minutes. Another bus going to the train station came a few minutes later and I took it as it looked like it was going to rain. My ankle was talking to me. I felt like I am being stabbed repeatedly in the same spot. I took the breakthrough med and hoped it wasn’t going to knock me out.

As I was going to the station, my legs felt like jelly. I had been doing some serious walking the past three days so they were understandably tired. I still wanted to make the zucchini pie when I got home. I was hungry as it was after lunch time when I got home and all I had was the sandwich. I had a pop tart as I started to prepare for cooking. It took me a little while to get things done. The stupid container that held the diced onions wouldn’t open. The butter would cut the way I wanted it to so made a mess. I was getting so annoyed as my legs were about to divorce me. I put everything together and then put it in the oven. I used two more eggs because there was a lot of vegetables and I wasn’t sure it would be covered with just four. I also used two bags of shredded cheese. I was only supposed to use 12 ounces but what is 4 ounces more??

I went upstairs to relax while it cooked in the oven. I checked Twitter and had been checking it on and off all day. It was making me so fucking sad because of what the dumbass in chief is doing to immigrant families. There was a tweet where a 4 month old was taken from the mother while she was breastfeeding!! What the fuck!!! The stories are horrendous and all my representative cares about is how people working minimum wage can’t afford housing. It is a total fucking mad house. I tried to just tweet and not read others tweets. One of the people that I follow follows some police feeds. All the retweets are missing kids. I can’t take it. Game started playing at 3 pm and I couldn’t get what was going on. All my feed was on the immigrant kids, Orange Buffoon’s foolish summit with NK, and the bullshit that is going on with the opioid epidemic. I think I need a Twitter break. It used to be a way for me to know what is going on and stay in the know but now I don’t want to know shit!! I am suicidal enough and politics and kids being ripped from their families are just adding to it. I don’t like what my country is becoming. And nobody in Congress is pushing forward to put a stop to it. What really gets me is a person in Congress will tweet, X should be done. Fucking do it!! What the hell are you waiting for?? Retweets aren’t going to make it fucking happen you nitwit!! Or the other thing is to call the representatives/senators. This has been going on since fucking January 20th, 2017!!! I am tired of it. I am tired of calling/tweeting. Nothing is happening because of these calls. Just feels like a huge hopeless situation.

Bigger

Bigger

This song is by Sugarland and I have to say, it speaks to me. Not in a psychotic way like some music can do, but the lyrics touch me because it is hopeful and I feel like Jennifer Nettles, who I adore, is speaking directly to me as she sings it. (I know that isn’t it but you kind of feel it with the tone of voice she uses.) It is a beautiful song and as my last few days have been rocky and filled with suicide, it is slowly sifting in my brain that maybe I can put off my plan a little longer.

I emailed my psychiatrist as I have had another day where my mood is a fricken rollercoaster. I have felt slightly above normal (not really euphoric) and then crash. Last night I swear I was having mixed states as the perturbation was so bad I couldn’t sleep. I was so on edge. But I woke up depressed but not so much that I stayed in bed like I wanted. I forced myself to catch the bus. I didn’t change out of my PJs. They could pass as sweatpants so I just went out with them. Fuck it, people go out in the PJs all the time, why should I be different? I did the few errands and had the intent of making zucchini pie today.

I was exhausted when I came home. The fluidity that I was able to walk with yesterday was gone. Every step was painful and slow as molasses. Not sure if that was due to pain or depression. I just felt like I was going uphill with every step I took, even on level ground. I saw my mother had taken out some meat for dinner. I was grateful I didn’t have to cook. I will make the zucchini pie tomorrow after I go to the pharmacy to get my breakthrough med as there doesn’t seem to be one close to me. I called the one I go to all the time and they are out of stock and think it might come in Friday. That is just unacceptable. I’d go tonight if I had a car, though I might get lost as I am not too sure of the way. I know the bus route so will take it tomorrow. I hate going there two days in a row but I need my meds and I really don’t want to wait till Thursday when I see my PT.

One of the suicidologists on Twitter liked my blog that I wrote yesterday or rather this morning. I was kind of in the mixed state so was hyper/depressed and needed to write. It was nearly 1700 words. She asked my permission to use a section of it for her class that she teaches. I said sure as long as you credit Midnight Demon. That was all I ask. Give credit where credit is due. I haven’t read what I wrote. I usually just write and then publish. Then someone comments and I wonder what the fuck did I write. Happens all the damn time, even in my journal writing. There was a time where I was in the hospital for a lengthy stay. I wrote in notebooks (didn’t have fancy journals like I do now) and I went back to read what I wrote. My handwriting changed so many times I thought it was a different person writing. The think that always struck me, even to this day, my feelings always stayed the same. It was just a different day. Talk about feeling hopeless. I literally had proof that I was a severely depressed hopeless person.